A work of fiction. All characters are 18 years or older.
Never had I so forlornly prepared myself for sex. It was inevitable. Unavoidable. And yet I resisted as though there was still the possibility of clemency. I chapped my lips and adjusted my bra. I pulled my thong up. Mark was waiting in the bedroom. He was waiting and I was stalling. Trying to psych myself up for what I was sure would be a sweeping anticlimax.
It had been two days since I had succumbed to James. Two long days since we had christened the guest bedroom with the heaving and creaking of our frenzied lovemaking. We had not been able to lay a finger on each other since.
It was my fault. The ‘rules’ that I had drawn up to protect our taboo relationship dictated we keep our distance. There was simply no opportunity for even a stolen kiss or sly grope and feel. On any other weekend it might have been easier. But it was my husband’s birthday weekend which made it more or less impossible.
I checked my burner phone. James’s last message summed up our collective frustration.
‘I need to be inside you.’
I sighed as I checked my stockings for ladders. The phone was buried at the bottom of the laundry basket. I would retrieve it later. I knew it would be difficult when embarking on this mad journey. All my plans had factored in the restrictions on our time together.
But now…now that I had tasted him. Now that I had surrendered my body to his restless hands. Now my pussy had experienced the joy of his insatiable cock as it heaved in and out of her. All the plans and contingencies had gone out of the window.
The day after was the easiest. We still clung to our post-coital glow, carrying on our outward roles as mother and son as Mark flitted between us. We joked, I nagged, he complained, we did chores together, I worked in my study, he went for a bike ride. We hid in the banality of home life and to all intents and purposes were completely normal and nondescript.
We could only communicate with our eyes. There were longing expressions. They would linger just long enough to register the pain of our enforced celibacy. Looks and glances, smiles and grins. Each of them an exchange of our mutual desire and memories of heat and passion that seemed such a long time ago. Every passing second took us further away from our joyful copulation with no promise of return.
We were treading water in the currents. Waiting for the propitious moment when we could emerge and engulf each other on the shore. The second day was harder. I worried we would both crack. That James would ambush me as I washed the dishes. Raining kisses down my neck while I lifted my skirt up to welcome him inside. Or I would sneak into the garage and gag him with my panties as I foisted myself onto his cock.
So many thoughts and impulses that charged the air between us and then dissipated without fulfilment. We took refuge in the burners. I sat in the conservatory while he stayed in his bedroom. We messaged each other relentlessly. I watched Mark in the garden while a new message would ping through from James.
He was masturbating in the room just above me. He held onto the emerald panties I bequeathed him from our first session. We tapped furiously on the burners as we replayed that magical afternoon. He described the way my breasts had bounced as he dragged me to and fro on his cock. I relived the moment he had exploded in me. I told him how tightly my pussy walls had gripped onto him at that moment. He told me the panties still smelled of our cum. I told him all my lingerie would soon bear the same scent.
We sent each other into an ill-advised tizzy before I broke it off. I was genuinely concerned that one of us would be driven into such a frenzy they would do something even more ill-advised. Mark continued his gardening outside, blissfully unaware that his son and wife were reminiscing about their first incestuous coupling inside.
We went for dinner on Sunday to celebrate Mark’s birthday. Friends and family joined us and our longing was tempered in the company of so many people close to us. It was an enjoyable occasion and I was glad to see it so well attended.
In the background was the spectre of my hunger. James and I away from all of this. Trying new positions and techniques. Pushing the boundaries of our bodies capacity for each other. Instead of here at this family gathering. Helping to blow out candles and sing Happy Birthday. We were secret super-villains mixing with the general populace, but aching to be back in our lair of incest and doing unpardonable things to one other.
And now here I was that same evening. Preparing myself for Mark. Readying for a night of marital obligation. At least…that’s how I saw it now. I consoled myself with the thought that a slightly tipsy Mark would likely only last a half hour if even that. He wouldn’t be like James. Imbued with the virility of youth and the forbidden pleasure of penetrating his mother. He wouldn’t Başakşehir Escort be troubling the small hours with his ardour, rousing his cock again and again to plunge into my sopping cunt.
I checked myself one last time. What was about to transpire may have been a formality but I still prided myself on putting on a good show. I had to please my husband. If James and I were to pursue our affair then it would have to be under the aegis of a happy house and home. To satisfy myself I had to satisfy Mark. I had to ensure he would not have even an inkling that my true affections and desires lay elsewhere. Particularly if that elsewhere was so close to home.
I opened the door to the bathroom and slinked out. Mark gave a low whistle as I bowed before him. He was laid out on the bed. I could tell he was little drunk and also tired from the evening celebrations. I approached the bed and crawled up to his midriff. He reached out and took my breasts in his hands. We kissed. It was anodyne. His breath still carried the trace of whiskey. I reached for his cock and started to pump it.
In my mind I was looking for shortcuts and thresholds. What was the least amount of time I could spend jacking or blowing him that wouldn’t make me come across as a reluctant shrew? I tried to focus on Friday afternoon. I pretended I wasn’t here with my husband, but my son instead. It was a harder fallacy to pull off than I hoped. Everywhere I looked there were shortfalls and disappointments. I was game, but I was jaded as well.
We continued with the foreplay for a few minutes before I manoeuvred myself onto Mark and started riding him. I thought of James across the landing. Sulking in his room. Headphones in and trying to focus on his ipad while I fucked someone else. The thought turned me on and I increased my rhythm. It turned me on to think of him jealous and inflamed. Stroking his cock angrily as someone else enjoyed the pussy he so desperately wanted to.
Mark came with a sharp grunt and surprised me. I slowed my thrusting and ground to a halt. I leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead as though he were a mascot and not my lord and master. He puffed his cheeks out as I slipped out from him. It had happened so fast I hadn’t even had chance to fake an orgasm. He took me in his arms and I lay there grudging and silent.
The snores started and compounded my dissatisfaction. Was this really the man I had spent so much of my life with? Who I had loved, respected and desired? And now I lay in his embrace like a caged bird waiting for the door to open so I could escape. At least it was over. It was over quickly and less painfully than I had expected. My other facades were easier to maintain but this one, lover, was subject to a scrutiny that exposed all imposters.
We both had the day off on Monday and Mark would expect a repeat performance no doubt. I speculated on ways to tire him out. We had nothing special planned and that lack of itinerary worried me. It left more time for Mark to initiate sex. I racked my brain. There was always a bike ride. I had my own bike though I rarely used it. Cycling was the preserve of Mark and James, their bonding pastime. I smiled as I compared it to the bonding pastime James and I had now commenced.
We had always been close. He was an only child. But we had never had anything like the long, rambling bike rides he took with his father. They were gone for hours on end. Now, that was my goal though for completely different reasons and expectations.
That’s when the thought struck me. How James and I could combine our new pastime with his existing one. I could feign a newfound interest in the physical benefits of two wheels. What better excuse than to accompany James on a ride?
I had underestimated how desperate James and I would be to indulge our appetites for each other. I wasn’t sure why, but my original draft of rules had deemed the guest bedroom as the only acceptable arena for our lovemaking. But now I realised this only allowed a few opportunities a week for us to be alone.
As Mark had proved over the weekend, his presence here was frustratingly regular. I felt bad resenting him for the audacity of spending time in his own home. He was like a puritanical chaperone trapped in a house with two raging lovers and foiling their repeated attempts to hump.
No, it was obvious that James and I would have to expand our base of operations. We would have to take our incest club on the road. That’s why the option of the bike ride appealed to me. It was natural, innocuous. It afforded us an hour or two of time to ourselves. The only issue was where to spend it.
Mark’s arm was clamped over mine but I delicately managed to unhook myself and reach for my phone. I checked Mark to make sure he was definitely sleeping. I turned my back on him and loaded up the browser. I went to AirBnB and typed in my post code and short term lets within a few miles.
My plan Başakşehir Escort Bayan was to cycle somewhere close and then retreat to a rented hideaway. I would pay with my incest expenses card and we could canoodle until the time came to return home. It seemed like a good plan. I would have to discuss with it James. We would have to stress test our deception. Ensure it was water tight and our precious time would not be interrupted or open to suspicion.
As I looked through the available properties the thought struck me again. I was researching locations to have illicit sex with my son. And this was because my original plans for screwing him had not factored in sufficient opportunities for fucking. Any time I pondered over the management of our relationship then it would pop into my head and set my juices flowing. I scrolled through studio apartments, pied-a-terres, bedsits, boltholes and flats. I studied the furniture. The layout. The size of the bed.
Each time the same thought in my head. ‘Would James enjoy fucking me over this couch or this futon? Would anyone see him pounding me through that window? Were the walls thick or would the neighbours hear me screaming at him to cum in his mother?’. Everything was viewed through the prism of our uncontrollable lust.
I ceased my searching. I was turning myself on way too much with no hope or prospect of release. I turned back to Mark and watched him sleep. It was inexplicable. How much I could lie to him. He had no clue. The ground had shifted irrevocably underneath his feet and he kept walking. He was like a cartoon character who did not understand to look down. If he did he would see there was nothing below him but an empty sky.
James was in a sulk in the morning. I got up to see him off and found him in the kitchen. Mark was still dozing upstairs. I came down in a chiffon gown that displayed more than an ample amount of cleavage. I suspected he would be in a bad mood. He perked up as I waltzed into the kitchen, my breasts heaving against the tight fabric.
He grunted in reply.
‘Do you want a lift this morning? I don’t mind taking you in.’
His eyes lit up.
‘Do you mean…’
‘No, James. I can’t. Not right now. Remember the plan. The rules.’
He chomped miserably on his cornflakes.
‘I’m sorry. About…last night as well. But you know the situation we are in. You know why I have to do this.’
He dropped his spoon into the bowl and wiped his mouth clean.
‘I know…I’m sorry, Mum. I didn’t…I didn’t expect to feel like this. I mean…I don’t even know why I’m jealous. I’m the other guy, not Dad!’
I blushed and fiddled with my hair.
‘Are you serious, Mum? Jesus, look at you. I want to take you right now!’
I laughed and pulled my gown tighter like a shy schoolgirl accepting her first compliment.
‘When can we…’ he trailed off.
‘I’m working on it. I promise. That is my job for the day. Keep your burner on.’
He broke out into a wide smile and walked over to me. For a moment I couldn’t say anything. I wanted what he wanted. To just ignore the plan. To pull the tablecloth off, tip over the fruit bowl and place mats. To spread myself out on the kitchen table while he went to work on me.
We both waited as if expecting each other to make the first move. Eventually he grinned and headed for the washroom. I fell into a chair, my pussy soaking. If this went on much longer than I felt I would be the one to break, not him.
He grabbed his bag and shouted a goodbye to me as he left. I felt guilty for being turned on by James’s jealousy. It was a negative emotion directed at Mark who was entirely blameless in this. He was the victim though thankfully he remained unaware of it. It was James and myself, the architects of his cuckolding, who were the ones nursing a sense of grievance.
I sat at the table and sighed. I stroked at the cloth harbouring a slight regret that it was still in place and not in a heap on the floor along with a trail of oranges and apples. I had no experience of juggling dual lives. It had only been a few days and I felt I was at the breaking point already.
I approached the problem as clinically as I could given my vested interests. The key to success was ensuring James and I had the opportunity and means to fuck as much as we wanted. This would reflect in a better home life for all of us, Mark included. There would be no frustration or bitterness. We would not resent him.
I wanted to laugh out loud at my hypothesis. As though it was the result of years of academic research and collaboration. The first law of incest. Let them fuck as much as they want. I picked up an apple and took a bite. Right now, we were failing the first law. I knew I had to fix it.
I made Mark breakfast and brought it up to him. He was still asleep so I woke him up with another rendition Escort Başakşehir of Happy Birthday. He smiled as he brushed the sleep from his eyes. Today was his actual birthday though all the celebrations and gifts had been doled out yesterday. I sat with him as he munched on crepes and banana slices. I asked him what he wanted to do that day.
‘I feel a bit tired to be honest. I think I had one too many pints last night. Definitely getting older.’
I teased him but inside there was smidgen of relief that he hadn’t secretly unveiled his plan to spend the day in bed cavorting. I waited till he finished then took away the tray and plate like a good and dutiful wife. He jumped in the shower and I took the lull to search my phone for potential places to rent for myself and James.
I collated a few promising listings on a shortlist and resolved to reconnoiter them later before making a final decision. I would also need to mention my bike to Mark. The sooner I could float that into conversation then the sooner I could build up to long, circuitous trips with James.
It had the makings of a good cover, but I wanted to road test it first. In the interim I decided upon booking one of the AirBnB properties for Wednesday. I often worked late on a Wednesday and thankfully James also made regular plans on that day due to his lift not always being available. It was not untoward that both of us would not be home when Mark arrived.
It was over two days away but it was the best I could hope for in the circumstances. It still felt too early to be taking wild risks despite our desperate need to be unleashed upon the other. It was a game of strategy, I told myself, not of chance. I was looking at the long-term.
The thought shocked me a little. I wasn’t just looking over the summer or even while James was away at university. This went beyond that. We had only slept together twice and I was already thinking about a future not just with James the intern or James the student but also with James the fully fledged professional. Mark and I would buy him a house close by and I would slip across and we would fuck with abandon, free of my oppressive rules.
I felt ingenuous. I had always dismissed love at first sight. Those awful, tedious couples who tried to persuade people that one glance was all it had taken for them to be convinced and now here I was; an atheist being converted. Not love at first sight, but coup de foudre. Unforeseen, unexpected but smitten nonetheless. Hopelessly smitten.
Mark finished his shower and I took my turn. The water seeped into my tired pores and I realised the bike ploy may actually be an opportunity for me to gain some fitness as well. I had never really been out of shape but the afternoon with James had left me aching and sore. It wouldn’t hurt to work on some cardio. I wanted to match him blow for blow.
I grabbed my burner from the laundry basket and dropped James a message about reserving time on Wednesday evening. He replied almost instantly with with an excited stream of thoughts. I dried myself as I read his outpourings and imagined him getting hard at work. Trying to conceal his huge erection in his booth.
Mark was not in the bedroom when I came out. I figured he would already have changed and slipped out into the garden. I would have to join him. I had never understood the appeal of gardening though I would be the first to admit our garden showed the lush and pristine touch of an attentive horticulturist.
Sure enough he was busy preening a bush when I joined him outside. I had changed into some old clothes to help him. He grinned and tossed me some gardening gloves and instructed me clear the borders of weeds. We chirped away under a pleasant sun, talking about work and James and how previous birthdays had been spent indulging in much riskier and sordid activities.
He talked about feeling old and I scolded him his cynicism. I told him that he was still a young man and that the best was still to come. It was hypocritical and insincere but I felt little shame in telling him these reassuring fibs. I was becoming a manipulative spouse in the best tradition of the mould.
Whispering sweet nothings to my unsuspecting husband whilst I plotted his demise with my new lover. I mentioned going for a bike ride and his ears pricked up. He offered to go later in the evening. Just a short one, perhaps a half hour or so on a forgiving route as a reintroduction.
I readily agreed. He talked about the route and I’m sure he was listing the local landmarks and beauty spots but I wasn’t really listening. I was trying to calculate a plausible timeline to go from a half hour bike ride to more than double that. My head was route planner, gauging the distance to the rental property, how long it would take and the most important calculation of all; how much time James and I would have to pleasure each other.
Mark droned on as my pussy drooled at the thought of my new ruse. I was still trying to understand these burgeoning desires. It was not just that James was my son that amplified our lovemaking. I knew that it was also partly the thought of deceiving Mark. Of fabricating these excuses and deceptions as part of our betrayal. The thought of both of us mocking him as we bounced off each other.